


It's Only One Night

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Tomione Smut Fest 2019, Virginity, Virginity Kink, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 11:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: Tom and Hermione are the Head Boy and Head Girl staying at the Leaky Cauldron. But with only one room available, they're forced to share a bed. There's only one bed, and it's only one night. She'll be one of his secrets. Tomione one-shot.For the Tomione Smut Fest 2019 (Category: Only One Bed).
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Voldemort
Comments: 26
Kudos: 273





	It's Only One Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the Tomione Smut-Fest 2019 (for the Tomione Trash group on Facebook) under the category of "Only One Bed." Please enjoy!

"What do you _mean_ , there's only one room available?" Tom Riddle snapped. Tom - the other Tom, the barman at the Leaky Cauldron - shrugged nonchalantly and tossed a rag over his shoulder.

"We're full up. People staying the night around the leavin' of the Hogwarts Express. Dunno what to tell you. Headmaster Dippet requested two rooms, sure he did. One for the Head Boy and one for the Head Girl. But I've only got the one. Maybe one of you can just spend tonight back home with family before -"

"We haven't got family," Hermione grumbled rather hotly. She stared at the ground. Perhaps if she hadn't been sent back in time, and if Tom Riddle weren't an orphan, one of them would have a better option for the last night of the Christmas holiday. Hermione raised her eyes to Tom and demanded, "Go back to the orphanage for tonight and let me keep the room I've been staying in for the holiday."

"No." Tom scowled. "I'm not going simpering back to those Muggles begging for a cot for the night. I'll sleep on the damned floor. It's not like I'm going to do anything indecent. We can certainly handle ourselves for one night, Granger."

"Fine." Hermione licked her lips and nodded to Tom the barman. "We'll just share the one room."

Tom the barman looked sceptical. "I don't think Headmaster Dippet would think very highly of that option."

"Well, that's what we're going to do. I've already got the key." Hermione stamped off then, stalking away from the bar and towards the flight of narrow, rickety stairs that led up to the first level. She heard the pattering of footsteps behind her that told her Tom was following, and she felt her skin prickle.

He was going to sleep on the floor of her room, she thought. She shut her eyes for a brief moment as she contemplated that. She knew who he was. She knew what he was going to become. She was meant to hate him. That didn't stop her from _wanting_ him. Everyone with eyes _wanted_ Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was incredibly handsome. He was the most handsome wizard who had ever lived, probably. And Hermione had come back in time and managed to convince him not to make a Horcrux. That much had drawn them together, at least.

But he didn't want her back, did he? He just viewed her as the pesky Mudblood time traveller who had foiled his plans with the diary. So.

Hermione's hand shook as she shoved her key into the door of her room and turned it with a loud _clank._ Tom mumbled from behind her,

"So stupid that they use keys. You could just open the doors with a simple _Alohomora._ "

"No, you can't," Hermione snapped. "The keys are enchanted. The doors are warded up."

She turned, and Tom's cheeks had pinked a little. He shrugged. "Oh."

Hermione shoved the door open and stalked inside She cleared her throat and said rather primly,

"Right. Well, I'll be fine with Scouring spells for my body and teeth, but there's a bathroom down the hall should you need it. I'll just give you the key when you require it. I'd like to keep this room locked up tightly, though; I saw a wizard milling about whom I don't trust a lick. Looked like a _most_ unsavoury character."

"You do seem to attract unsavoury characters," Tom noted, holding up his hands as if in surrender. Hermione narrowed her eyes and huffed,

"I'm going to bed. The Hogwarts Express is leaving tomorrow, and you and I are the Head Boy and Head Girl. We're expected at King's Cross hours before that train leaves so that we can be certain nobody's Splinching on platforms or making big shows of themselves in robes with owls. We need to do right by Headmaster Dippet."

"You mean the way we've done right by him by sharing a room?" Tom crossed his arms and cocked up a brow. Hermione seethed.

"You are incorrigible."

"Come on, Granger," Tom teased, stalking towards the bed and sitting on the edge. "It isn't the worst thing in the world, you and I sharing a room, is it? It isn't as though either of us smells like a troll. We're both very hygienic."

"Hygienic," Hermione giggled. She went to stand before him and smirked. "Oh, yes, Mr Riddle. You keep those dark waves of yours very neatly coiffed. I'm sure you wash your hair very diligently."

"I use pine shampoo and comb oil through my hair," Tom said, raising his eyebrows. "I've got quite the routine."

"Have you." Hermione nodded, taking a step closer to where he sat. "And are you as meticulous about scrubbing off the smarmy attitude you carry all day when you bathe in the dormitory?"

Tom tipped his head, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the bed. He curled his fingertips onto the quilt and squeezed a little, and he said softly,

"I do like a good bar of charcoal soap. The sort that really digs in and makes you feel new and fresh. I like to feel clean."

"Do you?" Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She _wanted_ Tom Riddle. She couldn't help herself. Everything was flushing warm. Her face and neck felt hot and her arms tingled all the way to her fingertips. Between her legs, a rush of damp heat settled. She gulped and murmured quietly,

"You can always Conjure yourself a cot for the floor. I've confidence that you're skilled enough."

"I'm certainly skilled enough," Tom nodded. "The question is whether such magic is truly necessary. Do I really _need_ to make myself a bed for the floor, Hermione?"

She froze. _Hermione._ He always called her _Granger._ Always. Without fail. She swallowed hard and sank her teeth into her bottom lip. She stared at the bed spread out behind Tom, at the humble quilt and the two lumpy pillows. And then she said hoarsely,

"There's only one bed."

"Mmm-hmm." He dragged one hand over the quilt and asked, "Could we share?"

Hermione blinked. She shut her eyes and nodded. She turned away from Tom and went to the corner of the room, setting about Transfiguring her woolen day dress into a long, white nightgown. She used the best skills she had, but the lace on the sleeves was uneven and the neckline was awkward. She pinched her lips, embarrassed by her imperfect Transfiguration, and she debated whether she ought to try and fix it. But when she turned back to face Tom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but knee-length white cotton underwear. He'd Banished the rest of his clothes into a neat pile on the chair in the corner. He shrugged and said,

"I get hot when I sleep."

Hermione's throat went very dry indeed. She could not help but ogle Tom where he sat on the bed; his bare arms were lean and toned and his chest was sculpted, making him look like a Greek Kouros. He dragged fingers through his dark wavy hair and smirked at Hermione, and he said quietly,

"Pick a side."

"I beg your pardon?" She thought of Lord Voldemort, of the enemy he'd become, and she jolted. But then he gestured to the bed behind him and broadened his little smile.

"Left side or right side?"

"Oh." Hermione's cheeks went hot. She walked towards the bed and stared at it. Then she eyed the sides of the room and noted, "We could Expand it. Widen it, you know. With spells."

"That's no fun," Tom protested. Hermione pursed her lips and huffily crawled into one side of the bed. She watched as Tom slithered into the other side, and then suddenly she was lying in bed beside Tom Riddle of all people. She rolled away from him, but she could feel the warmth of his body and the heaviness of his presence behind her. She wrenched her eyes shut and tried to ignore him, tried to bring herself to insist that he sleep on the floor or go back to the Orphanage. But he whispered into the dark quiet of the room,

"You're not at all bad-looking, Hermione. In fact, I think you're very pretty."

Hermione said nothing to that. She just brought a fist to her chest and tucked her knees up a little, and then she felt Tom slide a little closer to her.

"You're no Occlumens," he noted. "I know you want me."

"My thoughts are my own," she growled, but Tom hummed back,

"It's mutual."

Hermione's eyes sprang open. She sucked on a lip and then very slowly turned over to face Tom. She stared at him, and his dark eyes gazed back. He nodded onto the pillow and said,

"There's just the one bed. But it's only one night."

"Only one night," Hermione said a bit breathlessly. She licked her lips and leaned closer to Tom. "If I… if we… you wouldn't tell anybody, would you?"

"No." He curled up his lips. "I won't tell. I've got many secrets to keep, Hermione. _Many_ secrets. You can certainly be one of them."

"Well, then," Hermione whispered, "go on and kiss me."

Tom acted authoritatively then. He took Hermione's face in his hands and moved towards her, pressing his lips against hers and urging her mouth open. He dragged his bottom lip along hers and snared his fingers up into her hair. He let one hand drift down her back and settle just above her bottom, and she let out a little noise as he pulled her against him. His tongue snaked between her lips and lathed over the roof of her mouth, and then he suckled on her tongue and pulled his teeth over her bottom lip. Hermione was lost in him, drowning in the kiss, and she helplessly grappled at his shoulder as she moaned onto his mouth.

She'd never, ever been kissed like this. Not properly, like this. Not even Viktor Krum had kissed her like this. Nobody had ever dragged Hermione up in his arms and massaged her tongue with his like this, or nibbled her lip and toyed with her hair like this. Nobody had ever touched Hermione the way she was being touched right now, and it was lighting her on fire. She instinctively rolled a little, until she was on top of Tom, and he grunted with apparent delight as he moved onto his back. He stared up at her, lips pearlescent from kissing her so hard, and he dragged his wrist over his swollen mouth.

"May I?" He began to tug at the hem of Hermione's Transfigured nightgown, and she shut her eyes and let out a shaking breath through her nostrils. She nodded, and Tom peeled the nightgown up and over Hermione's head. She let him toss it away, let him bare her torso to him. He let out a low noise and tipped his head back a little as his hands moved from Hermione's hips up her flat belly and cupped at the weight of her soft breasts. He dragged his fingers around before tweaking her pert nipples and little and giving each a bit of a tug. That sent a fiery crash straight to Hermione's core, and she mumbled,

"Again. More."

"Mmm." Tom flicked at Hermione's nipples and tugged them again, pinching hard and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. Hermione arched her back and let her hair cascade down, her mouth falling open as she whispered,

"Oh, I like when you touch me."

"Grind on me," Tom requested, sounding just a little unhinged "Grind on me, Hermione."

They both still had undergarments on; Hermione's white cotton knickers and Tom's knee-length cotton underwear separated them. But as Hermione circled her hips a little, she could plainly feel that he was hardening up beneath her. Once she started to move, he went harder and harder until he was so firm, his cock was pressing almost angrily against her clit and entrance. She was soaked, she thought. She must be drenching his underwear as she moved atop him. But if he cared, he didn't show it. He moved his hands to her waist and guided her motions, encouraging her to move forward and back, up and down as if she were riding his cock. She ground so hard onto him that it began to rub with almost intolerable goodness. Everything felt so, so good. It was coiling up inside her, like a violin string wound too tightly. She felt heat spreading through her veins and settling in the pit of her stomach, thudding in her chest and vibrating in her mind.

"Tom," she murmured desperately, reaching out and stroking at his toned chest. She dragged her fingers all around his muscled pectorals, down his sculpted shoulders and biceps. He shivered a little and mumbed,

"If you keep going, I'm liable to… you know… this won't last. _Oh._ "

His hands cinched on Hermione's waist, and his eyes shut so tightly that his face went beet red. He twisted a little and groaned softly, tossing Hermione off of him and shaking his head.

"N-No; I can't," he exclaimed. "Here. I'll finish you off."

"What?" Hermione blustered, but before she knew what was happening, Tom's fingers had driven themselves into the waistband of her knickers. The pads of his middle and forefingers toyed with her folds and clit with just enough pressure, and Hermione realised just how close she'd been to finishing when he'd been grinding atop him. She lay on her side and threw her head back, bucking her hips roughly against Tom's hand as he crushed her mouth with another kiss. His tongue tried to engage hers in an elegant dance, but Hermione couldn't keep up. All she could do was pant and moan and clutch at his arm. So he just kissed her hard and touched at her nub with his fingertips, and suddenly she was coming.

It was like a thousand Blasting Curses going off at once. She sank her fingernails into his bicep, and he hissed in Parseltongue against her mouth in pain as she did. But then he kissed her through her climax, even as Hermione tried to mumble an apology. She was clenching around his fingers, clamping and cinching as his fingers pressed on her. Very abruptly, he was ripping her knickers off down her thighs and she was kicking them away, and then he was shuffling his way out of his underwear so quickly that Hermione found herself rather frantically exclaiming,

"Contraception!"

"Oh. Right. Erm… I haven't learnt that spell yet; the boys don't… not until April, you know, and…" Tom's cheeks went very red, and Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Tom Riddle, you're a virgin."

"No, I am not," he hissed. "The girls always do it."

"You're a virgin," Hermione accused again.

His face darkened. "As if there would be any shame in it. _You're_ a virgin; I see it plain as day in your head. It's going to hurt for you today. But not me. I'm not a witch. And, anyway, I'm not a virgin."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Who was it, then?"

"Erm… Prunella Parkinson." Tom looked away. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"She's dating Mulciber."

"It was before that," Tom said quickly. Hermione scoffed.

"They've been together since their fifth year."

"We were fourth-years," Tom sputtered. Hermione sighed and leaned towards him.

"Let's not ruin it. You're right; there's no shame at all in it. I've never done it. I'm just… surprised. That's all. Everybody wants you. Everyone."

"Well, perhaps I haven't wanted to waste the first time," Tom said through clenched teeth, "on some brainless little flit who only wants me because I'm handsome."

"And why do you think I want you?" Hermione tipped her head and reached to comb her fingers through Tom's hair. His throat bobbed.

"Because you and I are the best at duelling in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Because we're the best at Potions. Because we're the brightest at Hogwarts, and because you know my potential, and because you stopped me from…. Well…"

He cleared his throat. The diary. Hermione scratched her head.

"Well, you _are_ very handsome."

"And you're very pretty," he said quietly, "and I'd like to be inside of you now."

"Contraception," Hermione said tightly. She reached for her wand beside the bed and aimed it at her body, meeting Tom's eyes as she said pointedly, " _Nongravidare Maxima._ "

"Right," he nodded. He licked his lips and pushed Hermione onto her back. He hovered over her and pet her hair, and he stared down at her. "First time for everything."

"First time for everything," Hermione agreed. She gazed up at him, into his dark eyes, and she tried not to see Lord Voldemort. She tried just to see Tom Riddle, the brilliant Head Boy of Hogwarts. She studied his full lips, the bridge of his nose, the glint in his eyes. She memorialised the moment. She wanted to keep this in her mind forever, she thought. She nodded and whispered, "I don't think it will hurt too badly if I'm ready. And I'm ready."

He reached between them, aiming himself at her entrance and pushing in a little. Hermione shut her eyes and chewed her lip as he invaded her little by little. There was a stretch, a pull, but it wasn't too bad. She felt the slightest feeling of breaking, but then it faded. He started to move, and she whispered,

"Feels good now."

"Does it?" he whispered raggedly. "It does for me, too."

"Does it?" she hummed back. She forced her eyes open and met his eyes, and then he began to cycle his hips and pump in and out of her with fluid, strong, steady motions. Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and locked her ankles behind Tom's back. She held his shoulders and then touched her forehead to his sternum as he leaned down a little. She kissed his collarbone and found herself saying softly,

"There's only one bed, and it's only one night."

"You can be one of my secrets," Tom said above her, and then his hips stilled and his let out a low, guttural noise. He went very quiet and very still except for his jagged breath, and he finally whispered from atop Hermione, "Very much worth it."

He extracted himself after a long while, and Hermione reached for her wand as his seed leaked out from between her legs. She aimed it at herself and surreptitiously cast a Scouring Charm. She heard Tom mumble spells to clean himself up, too. Then she pulled on her knickers and went to fetch her nightgown, and she watched as Tom wriggled back into his underwear. She climbed back into the bed and rolled to face away from him again, pulling herself into the foetal position and shutting her eyes.

"Goodnight," she said rather sharply. "We have a busy day tomorrow."

"Right." Tom cleared his throat from behind her. Then she felt an arm snake around her. She felt a body cradle up behind her, felt him spooning her and kissing at the skin beneath her ear. She shivered and turned her head just enough to look at him.

"It's only one night," she whispered, "and only because we've… because there's just the one bed."

He nodded very seriously. "Don't worry, Hermione" he said. "You'll be one of my secrets. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Tom." Hermione let herself curl back against his warm touch, let him wrap his arm more tightly around her and let him kiss her cheek again, and then she shut her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and reviewing.


End file.
